Away, ye gray landscapes, ye gardens of roses, In you let the minions of luxury rove, Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes, Though still they are sacred to freedom and love.
Yet Caledonia, belov'd are thy mountains, Round their white summits the elements war Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains, I sigh for the valley of dark Lochnagar.
Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd, My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was my plaid. On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd As daily I strode thro' the pine cover'd glade.
I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright Polar star. For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story, Disclos'd by the natives of dark Lochnagar!
Years have roll'd on, Lochnagar, since I left you! Years must elapse ere I tread you again. Though nature of verdure and flow'rs has bereft you, Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain.
England, thy beauties are tame and domestic To one who has roamed over mountains afar Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic, The steep frowning glories of dark Lochnagar.
Brave Caledonia, dear are thy mountains I sigh for the valley o' dark Lochnagar
Ill-starred now the brave, did no vision foreboding Tell you that fate had forsaken our cause? Yet were you destined to die at Culloden Though victory crowned not your fall with applause
Yet were you happy in death's earthly slumber To sleep wi' your clan in the caves of Braemar The pibroch resounds to the piper's loud number Your deeds to the echoes of wild Lochnagar
Brave Caledonia, dear are thy mountains I sigh for the valley o' dark LochnagarTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
